Russell filled in. "So you ask, 'Who made those people that way?' And if God made us all, didn't he make homosexuals, too? maybe even for a purpose we don't understand?"
"Our stand on condoms infuriates me even more," Malcolm added. "How can I look my parishioners in the eye and forbid them to use something that helps prevent the spread of AIDS? But the Church doesn't want to hear what I think. They only want me to shut up."
"Are you going to?"
Malcolm shook his head slowly. "Wait till you hear what I'm planning for next Sunday."
* * *
The 10:30 A.M. mass began with a surprise. Bishop Sanford arrived, without warning, only minutes before the mass was due to begin. The elderly, wizened prelate was accompanied by an aide, and today was walking with a cane. He had a reputation as a disciplinarian who followed rigidly the Vatican line.
After the opening procession Malcolm publicly welcomed the bishop. Internally he felt his anxiety mounting. The sudden arrival had startled him, since he knew that the remarks he planned to deliver would inevitably meet with Sanford's disapproval. Malcolm had expected word to filter through to the bishop after his homily, and was prepared for that, but having him listen directly was another matter. But it was too late to change, even if he wanted to.
When the time came he leaned forward in the pulpit and spoke forthrightly. "Absolute faith in the reality of God and Jesus Christ is essential to us all. But, equally, we must have strength to retain our faith when it is tested, as occurs so often in our lifetimes. I intend to test your faith right now."
Surveying the crowded pews facing him, he continued, "True faith needs nothing whatever to support it, nothing materialistic, no proof of any kind, because if there were proof we would have no need of faith. And yet at times we do prop up our faith, we support it with a material object, usually the Bible."
Malcolm paused, then asked, "But what if you found out that parts of the Bible, supposedly important parts, and particularly concerning Jesus, were untrue, or distorted, or exaggerated? Could you still hold on to your faith, with the same conviction?"
Half smiling, he asked, "Do I see puzzled faces? Well, I assure you my question is very real. Real because modern scholarship has shown that parts of the Bible are almost certainly inaccurate for one simple reason: They were passed down through generations, not by written words, but by word of mouth a notoriously unreliable means of communication, as we all know.
"This is not news. Historians and Bible scholars have known it for a long time, as have the upper echelons of our Church."
By now there was some stirring among the congregation, a few questioning glances exchanged, and the bishop was frowning and shaking his head.
But Malcolm continued, "Let's take specifics. Did you know that after the crucifixion of Jesus, a gap of fifty years passed before there was any written record about Jesus' birth, his life, his teachings, his disciples, and the Resurrection? Half a century, and if anything was written during that time, not a trace remains."
Despite the restiveness of a few in the church, the majority stayed focused on Malcolm as he summarized what was known but so seldom talked about: The gospels were written separately, for varying purposes . . . Matthew's and Luke's gospels were almost certainly copied from Mark's . . . All four are by unknown authors, despite the names on them . . . The New Testament was not assembled until the fourth century C.E.... And none of the original text in Greek, on papyrus scrolls still exists.
"Papyrus," Malcolm explained, "was made from a reed growing by the Nile and was the only form of paper at that time. But papyrus disintegrated quickly, so all of the original writing was lost. Of course, copies were written, but the Canon copier, if you'll pardon the pun...." He paused, smiling. "Copying machines were still three thousand years away, so changes inevitably occurred. There were other changes in the New and Old Testaments during translations from Greek and Hebrew to Latin, then to other languages, including English . . . So all we can be sure of is that the Bible as it exists today is neither accurate nor a true copy of what was first set down."
He added thoughtfully, "I tell you all this not to influence your thinking or alter your faith, but simply to relay the facts. I don't believe in withholding the truth not for any reason."
* * *
After the mass, as the clergy moved outside to shake hands with departing parishioners, positive words could be heard from those around Malcolm. "Most interesting, Father" . . . "Never heard all that before" . . . "You're right, it should be known more widely."
Bishop Sanford was gracious and smiling as parishioners shook his hand. When everyone had gone he waved his cane peremptorily, motioning Malcolm aside.
His warmth replaced with glacial coldness, the bishop ordered, "Father Ainslie, you will preach no further homilies here. I am once more reprimanding you, and you will shortly receive orders about your future. Meanwhile I urge you to pray for humility, wisdom, and obedience, qualities you clearly lack and sorely need." Unsmiling, he raised a hand in formal benediction. "May God guide your penance and move you in more virtuous ways."
That night on the phone Malcolm repeated the conversation to Russell, adding, "We're ruled by too many sour old men."
"Who are completely sex-starved. What do you expect?"
Malcolm sighed. "We're all sex-starved. This life is perverse."
"Sounds like another homily in the making."
"No way. Sanford's put a muzzle on me. He thinks I'm a rebel, Russell."
"Has he forgotten Jesus was a rebel? He asked questions just like yours."
"Tell that to Iron-ass."
"What sort of penance do you think he'll give you?"
"Who knows?" Malcolm said. "To tell the truth, I'm not sure I care."
But the answer came quickly.
Bishop Sanford's decision was relayed to Malcolm two days later by Father Andre Quale, who received the news in an archdiocesan letter. Malcolm was to be transferred immediately to a Trappist monastery in the Pocono Mountains of northern Pennsylvania, a lonely place where he would remain indefinitely.
"I've been sentenced to silence in Outer Mongolia," Malcolm reported to Russell. "You know about the Trappists?"
"A little. They live hard and never speak." Russell recalled an article he had read. The Catholic Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance, the Trappists' official name, had a doctrine and way of life that were penitential little food, no meat, arduous manual labor, and strict silence. Founded in France in 1664, the Trappists had seventy monasteries worldwide.
"Penance is what old Sanford promised," Malcolm said, "and he kept his word. I'm to stay there and keep praying silently, of course until I'm ready to toe the Vatican line."
"Will you go?"
"I have to. If I don't, they'll unfrock me."
"Which might not be the worst thing for either of us." The impulsive words tumbled out, surprising Russell himself.
"Maybe not," said Malcolm.
* * *
He went to the monastery and, to his surprise, found himself at peace. The hardships he simply shrugged off. The silence, which he had expected to be a burden, wasn't, and later, when he returned to the outside world, he found it full of senseless chatter. People, Malcolm realized, were compulsive about filling a silence with their voices. But silence, accompanied by quickly learned hand signals, he discovered in the Poconos, was in many situations more desirable. Malcolm disobeyed only one condition of his banishment. He did not pray. While the monks around him presumably did so in their silence, he used the time to think, imagine, dip into accumulated knowledge, and assess his past and future.
At the end of a month of introspection he reached three conclusions. He no longer believed in any god, the divinity of Jesus, or the mission of the Catholic Church. While the reasons were multiple, most important was that all religions had a background of, at maximum, a mere five thousand years. Compared with the vast unknown aeons of geological time through which the universe had existed Earth being a relative pinhead the duration of religion's presence equaled, perhaps, a single sand grain from the whole Sahara Desert.